We Were Young

But not that young. Old enough to know better.

We met through a mutual friend, James. He had a huge crush on her (and I think everyone else in the state did, too). The three of us hung out a lot that hot, sweaty summer, running around on the beach, going to parties, drinking wine at my apartment. I thought she was out of my league - five ten, long brown hair, winning smile, and a full but lithe dancer's body - but for some reason, those sparkling blue eyes seemed more interested in me than James. Gazing into my soul as I talked. Uncovering all my secrets.

The first orgasm I gave her - and probably the second, third, and fourth - came solely from stimulating her breasts. I just couldn't keep my hands off them, and after her initial surprise at being able to come that way, she was eager for me to do it again, and again. I rubbed, pressed, pulled, kneaded, licked, sucked, and squeezed with increasing excitement until her thighs pressed together and a cry escaped from her throat. She would go down on me after, sucking and licking, taking me deep inside, and sucking harder and harder until I spurted into her mouth. Then we'd talk, sweaty and breathless. That was new, she would say. Breast orgasms, fuck. I'm gonna have to Google that one.

She would often say that her breasts were 'small' or 'nothing special'. They were perfect. If she went braless in the house - which was often - they'd sit proudly, firm and unsupported, two smooth curves above her abdomen. Her nipples stood out quickly when she was aroused. I loved to take them in my mouth and get her to crest the wave before I pushed her over it.

We didn't really understand each other on an intellectual level. She was cold and analytical, ruthless. I was more go-with-the-flow. Early in our dating life, she made a big point out of the idea that women select a mate, often from a large pool of suitors. Basically, she wanted me to buck up. How would we survive as a couple? What would be our plan? She wanted at least some idea of where we were headed. Me, I just wanted to enjoy the heady, carefree joy of early intimacy. I assumed we'd enjoy having plenty of sex for a few months and then see if we could find any other language.

Thing was, she didn't want to have sex. She made it plain to me that she was by no means a virgin; dozens of men had lusted after her and professed their love for her, and she had allowed quite a few of them in. But she was older now. Twenty-five. Looking for something more serious. Not wanting to fuck around.

There were moments of intense connection, though. Mostly they involved touch. A deep embrace, a passionate kiss, naked exploration. The humidity made us want to shed clothes, and if anything came off, we figured we might as well make the most of it. Our bodies nestled together nicely. Touching each other felt good, no matter the mood in the room. Our long, exhausting talks quickly became irrelevant when I had a hand rubbing up and down her cunt and she was tugging wildly at my cock until she squealed in ecstasy and I blew my load on her smooth, light brown thigh.

James got the picture pretty quickly and moped around for the rest of the summer. He did us the courtesy of leaving us alone after the wine was finished, but he'd be back the next day, and the next, and the next. You could see the pain in his eyes. He'd known her for ten years and been basically in love with her the whole time, and when he finally moves down here to be with her, she gets distracted - by this fresh young guy with no shared history. Me. And he knew the relationship wasn't exactly going smoothly, given her propensity to blow up at me in front of him. Who could blame him for sticking around, waiting for his chance?

The animal attraction had to give at some point. If you can't keep your hands off each other, why continue to ignore the blazing fire? We were at a party at Sarina's parents' place, this mansion out in Sapphire Shores. We were on the living room dance floor getting increasingly worked up, me in shorts and a white polo shirt, her in a leopard-print tube top and a black skirt. Half an hour of watching that fabric stick to her skin just made me want to tear it off. We kissed passionately, pressing our bodies up against each other. She grabbed my face and looked at me with her mouth slightly open and her breath heavy, those big blue eyes cutting into mine. They did not say: I'm not sure if we should do this, considering the personality difference and poor timing of this relationship. They said: now.

She took my hand and led me to an empty room, pulling me in behind her. She dragged me onto the bed and kissed me, then told me to go and check the halls to see if the coast was clear. When I came back, she was under the covers. I climbed in after her and pulled at her tube top and she said, I'm naked from the hips down... We fumbled at each other's crotches for a minute, then I clambered on top and pushed inside her. She was warm and wet and engulfed me. A dazed smile crossed her face as she looked up at me. I started to move a little; the smile disappeared, replaced by an open mouth and a look of concentration. The leopard print fabric bunched under her breasts and rustled as we moved.

"Ah," she said.

I remember the insides of her thighs bumping against the outsides of my hips. I remember my penis cocooned snugly inside her, surrounded by wet softness. I remember the way her tits flattened out when I pressed my torso against hers.

She began squeezing me in and out of her with her pelvic muscles - like I said, she'd had plenty of practice prior to our relationship - and I almost didn't have to do anything. It was too much, the incredible moist pleasure surrounding my penis and building with every thrust in and out. She saw that I was close, so she said, It's okay, I'm on the pill. You can come inside me. Please come inside me. So I did. And when the first blast of sperm shot deep into her depths, she arched her back and squealed, coming with me.

Did I mention poor timing? She was moving to Mexico in a matter of months. I'm in, I said. But do you really think you can handle it? she replied. And how do I know this is even what you want? I just continued nodding, affirming my commitment to her. But you need to want it for yourself, she said. You can't come for me. Oh, I think I can come for you any time you like, I said, hoping to change the mood. She glared at me and said something about me being so flippant all the time, it drove her crazy that I never took anything seriously. Then she gave me a look that said something else, and I kissed her, and the air was so warm and sticky, so we took all our clothes off and fucked, right there on the floorboards.

Part of the problem was that she was going to Mexico with James. They'd been planning it for a year, and he'd been so excited about it, and so had she. Then, with a few months to go, I came along and changed everything. Well, it doesn't have to change anything, she said. We can still go, and have our fun, and you can come a month later. No, I don't mean 'have our fun', not like that... Do what we planned. Cook, eat, drink together - as friends. Explore the beaches. Surf, do yoga. Then you come and join us, and maybe James will stay or leave. I don't know.

This all seemed like a terrible idea to me, but I wanted her so badly, so fervently believed that we were meant to be. So I agreed. And they went off, and I was never sure whether they were fucking or not, but when I turned up it was me that wound up in bed with her on the first night.

Officially, we weren't together at that stage, or the whole time between them leaving for for Mexico and me showing up. We'd 'taken a break'. I arrived, we ate tacos and drank beer, she announced she was tired and went off to bed. After a few moments, I told James I was going after her. Okay, he said, with a look that heavily implied he was not okay with it. But he did nothing to stop me.

When I climbed into bed beside her, she moved towards me a little, but didn't touch me, and I didn't touch her. We weren't officially together, after all. She asked what happened, and I said I told James I was going to bed with you. Oh my God, she said, kind of exasperated, but also a little relieved. I never did find out what had happened between them while I was out of the picture. But I was here now, and we were in the same bed with one thin blanket covering us, and it was even more humid than Florida had been.

I waited half a minute, listening to her breathe and watching her eyes scan the ceiling. Then I leaned across and kissed her, dragging some of the thin blanket with me. She kissed back like a release valve had been opened. Maybe they hadn't been fucking after all.

I sat up and pulled my shirt over my head, then moved on top of her, pressing my thigh gently into her crotch. She grunted in satisfaction. I kissed her deeply as I moved up and down, slowly, shifting the fabric of her panties around her vagina. She moaned quietly into my mouth. Our tongues were entwined.

I broke off the kiss and pushed her t-shirt upwards, away from her breasts. She held herself up off the bed briefly as she pulled it all the way off, over her head, leaving her chest exposed. I pressed myself down onto her again and we continued the kiss where we had left off, our passion rising as I jerked my thigh up and down over her panties. I leaned back out of the kiss again and wrapped my arms around behind her back, pulling her tight against me. I lifted her torso up off the bed and she moaned again, louder this time, as her nipples scraped forcibly along my flesh. Her eyes were closed and her mouth a little open. I kissed her sweet lips once again. She vocalised her approval.

James must have been able to hear us. Surely. We were getting louder and louder. He had wanted so badly to fuck her, for years, and he'd had months alone with her to convince her it was a good idea. And then I'm back on the scene for a day, and that same night, I'm in her bed, on top of her, undressing her, making her gasp with satisfaction and anticipation, getting ready to penetrate her. The poor guy.

My erection was poking her in the stomach, so I let her go. She fell back down onto the bed with a gentle thud, her breasts bouncing a little. She reached down and tugged at my penis through my boxers, reaching through the button fly and pulling it out. Her hand tugged and twisted expertly, manipulating the precum from the head down the shaft, pushing just far enough to extract maximum ecstasy from each stroke before returning her grasp to the tip. I couldn't deal with that for long, so I reached for her panties and dragged them a few inches down her skin. We were sweating.

She took the hint and let go of my cock, moving her hands instead to the elastic band of her panties and hooking her thumbs inside. As she slid them down over her tanned flesh, I did the same with my boxers, discarding them in a heap beside the bed. We were now completely naked with each other.

With one hand, I grabbed one of her breasts and began to knead it, harder than usual. She was charged up, she could take it. With the other, I positioned my penis over her vagina, which glinted in a shaft of light from the streetlamp outside. My precum-covered dick seemed to draw the sticky moisture up out of her, slicking itself further. I couldn't resist leaning into it, burying the lower third of my penis ever so slightly inside her, pushing directly on her steadily growing clitoris. "Ah," she sighed, staring up at me. Without reducing the downward pressure, I stroked my penis up and down her vagina, just an inch or so, just enough to tip our desire over the edge. A day earlier - even an hour earlier - this may have seemed like a bad idea. But here we were, unclothed and gasping, ready to drive home our unstoppable attraction to one another. It could not be contained. My cock needed to feel her all around it, and the full depth of her vagina needed to be filled.

I lowered myself to my elbows and positioned the point of my penis at the entrance to her vagina. She continued to look at my face as she reached down and guided it gently inside. It didn't take much effort; she was flooded, and her opening had broadened in readiness for me. I pushed all the way in and finally began to relax. "Oh my god," she said. She smiled at me with wide eyes. I took the weight off my elbows and pressed the length of my body into hers. Her eyes widened further. "Oh my god. I think I can come just from having you inside me."

I smiled back at her before making the most infinitesimal push against her clitoris. The light from through the window seemed to twinkle in her eyes and I felt her pussy spasm around me; she clasped the sheets in bunches around her, squeezed her eyes shut, and opened her mouth wide in a silent scream. Once, twice, three times, four. Each one a long squeeze, followed by the briefest pause, then another squeeze slightly shorter than the previous. Eventually, she opened her eyes and giggled breathily.

I took that as my cue to draw my length out and thrust back in. The silent scream again. But this time, she bucked against me a little, sucking around my penis with her pelvic muscles. I managed to thrust out, and in, and out, then in again, before I felt my orgasm crown over the point of no return. She pulled me against her with her legs and squeezed our bodies together as I drove my cock back in, hard, and ejaculated deep inside her. Warm semen spread through her around the head of my penis. I collapsed on top of her.

Like I said, it was even hotter and more humid in Mexico than it had been in Florida, so our clothes wound up on the floor quickly and often. My body wanted nothing more than to press itself up against hers, so warm and smooth and smelling so sweet. The temperature in the room seemed to rise with each patch of flesh uncovered. Every passing touch could lead to another frantic session.

James lasted a week. One afternoon, he went out for beer; we figured we had at least an hour, so away we went. I was buried up to the hilt, she was looking up at me in desperation; beads of sweat were flying; and then as she peaked, thrashing around underneath me, the front door opened. She panicked and threw me off her, leaping out of bed.

Problem was, she was still coming. She pressed her back up against the cool clay wall of the bedroom and tried to ignore the warm red flush that had spread across her chest and neck, the hardness of her nipples, the spasming between her legs. She looked at me and giggled uncontrollably, shaking from head to toe, trying to suppress the urge to prolong her orgasm, but the smile dropped from her face and she gave in.

Her left hand reached down to her cunt and rubbed her clitoris. "Ohh," she sighed, as quietly as she could. We could hear James clinking beer on the countertop in the kitchen. I began to stroke my penis, covered with our sweat and bodily fluids. She was starting to buck against the wall. Her right hand reached down and plunged two fingers up to the knuckle. "Ah, ah, ahh..." And she went back over, dripping a little moisture on the concrete floor between her feet, squeezing her eyes shut in ecstasy. I went from gentle stroking to furious tugging in a heartbeat and jizzed all over myself as I watched her slide to the floor.

James left the day after that, back to Florida, leaving us alone with our bodies and our disagreements. She couldn't believe I didn't want to go into business with her, opening a bar or a guest house out by the beach. "Why won't you just try?" she would ask, incredulously. My reply was always the same: "I don't know if it's a good idea." In hindsight, I would have been clearer. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing down here, other than to engage in sexual pleasure with you. My Spanish sucks, I don't want to work in the tourism industry, I don't want to become a small business owner with no plan and no experience." It didn't seem possible to say these things at the time. Her force of will was too strong for me, and when she'd bore holes in me with those eyes, I had no answer.

We continued to fuck, though, and increasingly, we made love. As soon as we got into bed, our differences became irrelevant. We just fit so well together. "You're the perfect size, you know," she said one day as I nestled all the way inside her. She was spread out with her legs hanging off the end of the bed, and I was kneeling in front of her.

But it wasn't just that. We would run our hands over the curves of each other's sides, squeeze each other's buttocks, rub all the way down each other's legs, massage each other's feet. Everything felt so good.

One day, we got some coconut oil and filled the bedroom with the sickly scent of coconuts and sex. I think we were naked for about five hours, pausing only for water and fruit. We made a real mess, but my god, it was heaven. At one point, sprawled on the bed between rounds, we were talking about something or other, it doesn't matter what. She had propped herself up on one hand, facing me. Suddenly she said, "I think you can reach me from there." She reached down to my cock. It hardened immediately at her touch, and she smiled. She opened her legs slightly and pulled it to her entrance; I pushed it in. She stretched one arm out behind her head and gripped the sheet with the other, her nipples pointing skyward, as I thrusted smoothly in and out of her. I must have come five or six times that day, which was nothing compared to her.

Her impatience and impulsivity got the better of her libido eventually. Through an older neighbor and friend, Olivia, she got wind of an opening to co-manage an eco-village in a town in Belize. Something really intentional, apparently, and purposeful, unlike "whatever it is we're doing here". I tried to convince her to stay. She looked away as I talked, then stared me down with her questions, always pushing, always challenging. We fucked one last time before she left, a partially clothed attempt to farewell each other's bodies mindfully, but it wound up kind of purposeless, me coming in her while she held my arm loosely, then declining my offer to reciprocate with my fingers. There was no passion about it, no want. Which fits, considering how our relationship had petered out.

So she left, as I'd always expected she would. What I didn't expect was that I would stay. I got a job as an English language tutor to wealthy older women, who I would sometimes bump into at the beach bars. Thanks to a listing on a local bulletin board, I also met a lot of tourists during those months, some of them women. A lot of laughter, a lot of Corona in the sun. But no sex.

Five months after she headed south, I got an email. She was coming back for a visit, and she wondered if I still had a spare bed in the house, because as much as it had all ended a bit weirdly between us, she hoped we could still call each other friends, and it was only for four nights, and she didn't expect me to go out of my way hosting her or anything, she would even arrange to be out of the house most evenings so as to avoid disrupting any plans I had. Sure, I replied, my heart rate increasing.

She arrived on a Thursday while I was out giving a private lesson. She waited at Olivia's place a couple of doors down. When I showed up that evening, the setting sun bathing Olivia's parlor in an otherworldly orange glow, they were deep in another attempt to put the world to rights, Olivia doing most of the talking as usual.

She kept her attention on Olivia as I entered the room. Not even so much as a glance in my direction. Olivia gestured to the pitcher of lime and tequila on the table as she continued her diatribe. I poured myself a glass and listened.

Eventually, Olivia cited her 'old woman's bladder' and excused herself to the bathroom. That was when she stood, turned to me, and looked me in the eye, her face crinkling into a full smile for the ages, teeth showing, eyes half lidded, cheekbones pronounced, as if her joy at seeing me was too much for her face to bear. I smiled back, confused, because we still hadn't exchanged a word. Then we embraced, pressing into each other tightly.